


the heart falls where your chest is

by Cirkne



Category: Be More Chill - Iconis/Tracz
Genre: Established Relationship, Fluff, Multi, POV Michael
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-07-20
Updated: 2017-07-20
Packaged: 2018-12-04 13:38:28
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,176
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11556315
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Cirkne/pseuds/Cirkne
Summary: Nights like these are when Michael remembers his fear of the dark





	the heart falls where your chest is

**Author's Note:**

  * For [klaviergavout](https://archiveofourown.org/users/klaviergavout/gifts).



> a tiny exchange with my dear friend kayley <3
> 
> title from wake me up by ed sheeran which will forever be the most romantic song in existence sorry i dont make the rules

He tries not to turn on the lights as he moves through the quiet house, an empty attempt at convincing himself that he is not afraid, like letting light into the kitchen equals admitting defeat. Instead he navigates himself from the fridge light just before the door falls closed to the moonlight falling through the window, on his legs and the fluffy socks Christine got him just because she thought he’d like them. 

Nights like these, his parents away on various trips he doesn’t care about, are when he remembers his fear of the dark. His fear of everything, really. From made up video game monsters to real possible murderers hiding in the shadows of his home. His room being moved to the basement a few years back isn’t really helping either and he considers, for a moment, if sleeping in his parents’ bed would be what’s best for him but that feels like he’d be admitting defeat even more and so he decides against it. 

When he returns to the basement, his phone, resting on one of his pillows, has lit up with a few texts. It’s Jeremy, mostly, asking how he’s doing all alone because he’s known Michael for years and so he knows about this irrational fear of a dark, empty house too and Michael reads through the messages several times before he decides to reply. He’s never been good at this part. Never liked making himself vulnerable like this, asking for help when some part of him knows he could easily deal with it if he really tried. 

He goes for casual, first, tells Jeremy that he’s bored and the house is too quiet for his liking and Jeremy, knowing him better than anyone else, asks if he’s afraid and if his anxiety is getting worse and Michael, never able to lie to him, answers that his heart feels like it’s going to break his ribs and the house is too cold even with his space heater on. 

Michael counts the seconds it takes Jeremy to reply. Counts how many times he breathes out as he’s waiting. Jeremy answers just before Michael starts panicking and overthinking everything he’s ever said. 

_Christine, Rich and I are coming over_ is Jeremy’s response. With the others he asks, doubts how much they want him there even. With Michael, though, he just knows and it brings a strange sort of comfort. Jeremy knows how much he is needed and he uses it to his advantage, has made home in Michael’s heart. 

Michael waits and they, of course, take longer than he would like them to but if the world listened to what he wants they never would have left in the first place, forever pressed to him in some way, like they are what keeps him alive. Like he is what keeps _them_ alive. A mutual desperation hiding in their skin.

He hears the door open before he hears anything else and for a moment his heart is beating so fast he thinks his bones will end up bruised and then he hears Rich, over Christine and Jeremy. He never learned to be quiet and Michael breathes out, presses his palm to his heart. Listens to them lock the door behind them with the key Michael gave Jeremy back in their freshman year of highschool and then navigate themselves in the dark, down the stairs to the basement. 

His bed was not made to fit the four of them so in the faint light emitting from the lava lamp he has on his bedside table, he watches Christine and Rich push at each other in a quick race to him and Jeremy’s standing behind them, grinning like he has never been happier. Rich reaches him first. Mostly because he flings himself onto the bed before Christine can reach it, falls half on top of Michael and Michael glares at him for a second while Rich shimmies in place to make room for himself in the spaces Michael’s body leaves for him.

“Hey babe,” he whispers, words like a reassurance of sorts and Michael wraps his arms around Rich’s waist, makes a sound in the back of his throat to acknowledge him. “Missed you,” he says. Christine sits down next to them on the bed, folds her legs under herself and rests a hand on Michael’s ankle for no other reason than to be touching him. 

“You saw him this morning, Rich,” Jeremy says. He’s still leaning on the stair railing, taking them in like they’re more than sappy teenagers on a bed too small for them. 

“Missed you too,” Michael tells Rich before the boy can turn away to argue at Jeremy and he grins, leans down to peck Michael on the lips. He’s soft like this, skin warm where he touches Michael and when they pull away there’s bubbly laughter escaping his lips. Sometimes it seems like this is still new to him, like every kiss they share is his first one. Maybe to him it feels that way. Michael feels his heart swell at the thought. 

“How are you doing, Michael?” Christine asks after moments they spend just looking at each other and Michael closes his eyes, shrugs as best as he can with Rich half on top of him.

“Better now that you’re all here,” he says, lifts one of his arms away from Rich to reach out to her and she takes his hand almost immediately, makes room for herself on the other side of him, shoulder pressing into Rich’s on top of Michael’s chest. She lets her head fall to his shoulder, his arm around her, resting on the small of her back and Michael breathes with them. He thinks if he listened for it, his heart would beat in the same rhythm as theirs.

“Good because we’re staying over,” Jeremy says. He still hasn’t joined them on the bed. He does that, sometimes. Like he is not a part of them, like he is only there to watch them. 

“You gonna stand there all night, beanpole?” Rich asks before Michael can say anything about it and Jeremy snorts.

“There’s no room,” he says but he is moving, finally, to them. Gravitating towards their pull like this is how it’s always worked. Maybe it is. Maybe their relationship works because of gravity and there’s no other way it could be.

“There’s always room for you,” Christine says into Michael’s hoodie and Michael grins. She is going to fall asleep on him, he can tell, presses her closer to himself, if only a little. 

“Uh,” Jeremy starts once he reaches the bed, his knees against the mattress, but before he can manage any real words, Rich is moving, making space for him and then fitting himself into his side when Jeremy finally lays down. They are puzzles pieces. 

“I love you,” Michael says to all of them at once and they all say it back, an unorganized chorus of affection. Right now, Michael thinks, they are everything he’s ever going to need.


End file.
